


on the run

by PuellaMidori



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Other, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuellaMidori/pseuds/PuellaMidori
Summary: “Oh, no, I haven’t heard anything about her in centuries.”He’d pushed to far, too fast, broken things irreparably. He definitely owed her a little self-imposed torture.But it was always easier to burn the world instead.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Kudos: 11





	on the run

**Author's Note:**

> I feel a bit weird having this online because it actually got kinda Too Personal and I didn't realize it right away but I'm gonna keep it up for now because it's probably still a decent creative exercise but just a disclaimer I guess? And ye I should definitely find better characters to overproject onto.

She’d disappeared. Just completely vanished. He’d burned through the universe, threatening and torturing anyone and everyone he could think to threaten and torture, but they all gave the same response in the end.

“Oh, no, I haven’t heard anything about _her_ in centuries.”

But he couldn’t let it go. How could she just _disappear_ ? She’d what, settled down somewhere, changed her name and kept quiet? No, not her. She couldn’t just _keep quiet_ for centuries. Maybe some of her other faces could have lasted, maybe a year, maybe a decade even. He doubted if his version of her could stand still for even one day.

It’s not that he couldn’t recognize that it was his fault. Obviously it was _his fault_ , everything was always his fault with her, just like everything was always her fault with him. The point of it wasn’t whose fault it was, the point of it was that he was _worried_. He’d done his research, checked and re-checked, and her timeline still seemed intact, so she couldn’t have been _gone for good_. Sure, he could always pop ahead a bit, check in with somebody she wasn’t yet, make a little mischief along the way, but somehow that didn’t sit right. It wasn’t fair to either of them, and the universe was already so unfair to them. No, he needed it to be _her_ , he needed her to _face_ him.

It wasn’t enough, just knowing that she _had_ to be out there somewhere. Anything could have happened to her. She had a knack for getting herself into trouble, after all this time. Granted, more often than not he was the one _making_ the trouble...

He shook his head, started pacing the room. This wouldn’t do, sitting here _thinking_ about her. He had to _do_ something. He couldn’t have exhausted his options yet, could he? There must’ve been some favour he could call in somewhere, or someone’s livelihood he could sacrifice. She _had_ to be _somewhere_ which meant _someone_ had to _know_ something! He punched the wall, not having anyone but himself and his ship to take his frustrations out on. It didn’t make him feel any better, and only earned him a somehow indignant-sounding beeping for his troubles.

He shook out his injured hand and kicked some wayward piece of junk that found itself in his path, just for good measure, before heading off towards the console room. He didn’t know where he was planning on going just yet, hoping he’d come up with something before he made it there.

He was just beginning to wonder if this hallway wasn’t just the _slightest_ bit longer than it usually was when the dizziness hit him with force. He staggered back against the wall, trying to blink it away. “No!” he shouted at nobody in particular, or maybe just at himself. He hadn’t slept in _weeks_ , he realized. He pushed forward anyway, weaving down the corridor, looking for all the world the lunatic he was.

He watched as the door to the console room slowly closed on its own, even heard it lock. “Oh, come on! Really?” This time the shouting was directed towards his disobedient vessel. Across the hall, much closer to where he was now leaning on the wall for support, another door opened. A bedroom. He briefly considered. If his options were to pass out on the floor, or in slightly more dignified locale, he supposed the decision was practically already made. “Fine, alright! I get it already...”

“And what the fuck are _you_ doing here?” he spat when he found himself face to face with himself, only without the mirror and without.... certain features.

“Even _you_ can figure out that she doesn’t _want_ to be found, can’t you? Hasn’t she earned a bit of peace? We both know you’re not going to give her _that_.”

“She could be in trouble! And you haven’t answered my question, by the way. This is _my_ head now, _you’re_ not invited.” He stepped towards her, giving her a shove backwards. He wondered briefly if there wasn’t something to be said for self-loathing so strong that your first impulse upon coming face-to-face with _yourself_ was to commit an act of violence.

“Oh, don’t be so _hostile_. I live here too. You could stand to learn some manners, I think. Now, be a dear and _shut up_ , it’s no _wonder_ she ran from you.” The woman in front of him crossed her arms and shook her head pityingly.

“We don’t _know_ that she did,” he argued pathetically, but he knew he didn’t really believe that. If he did, he wouldn’t be here, unconscious and arguing with _himself_ , now would he? “What business is it of _yours_ , Missy? You _had_ your time.”

“My dear Master, I’m the only version of you _stupid_ enough to go and have a _moral crisis_. Lucky for you, you’ll only have to deal with the consequences of that for the rest of your lives. _Everything_ is my business now.”

He turned his back on her, not looking for the reminder. “It _was_ stupid of you, wasn’t it? All it got you was killed.” He walked off, not caring to see whether she’d have a comeback or some more _sage advice_ for him. What good would it do? Unless she was going to tell him how to get her back, he wasn’t interested.

His eyes shot open and the bedroom slowly came back into focus. “Well, that was disorienting and not in the least bit enlightening,” he muttered to himself. He started to get to his feet, then thought better of it. Not knowing was torturing him. But maybe he owed her that much. He’d pushed to far, too fast, broken things irreparably. He definitely owed her a little self-imposed torture.

The least he could do was give her another day. He buried his face back in the pillows.

Besides, by tomorrow he was bound to come up with _somebody_ he could kill to get back to her.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally supposed to be something else but I, ironically enough, passed out partway through writing it last night and when I came back to it tonight it turned into whatever it is now and also Missy was there without ANYBODY'S permission? But that is OKAY because I am ALSO sleep deprived or possibly just ill at the moment, and therefore I am marginally less picky. Is this in character? Does it make sense in any kind of timeline? I do not give a SHIT I am working through some stuff babyyyyy  
> Might continue it some day but for now I guess it's a tidy (?) little oneshot.


End file.
